


The Red Book

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [48]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: Tilda and I order Thomas to show us his Shakespeare artifact
Series: The Manse [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	The Red Book

Morning tea with Tilda. We’re up long before the sun, wrapped in our Manse uniform long sapphire robes as we sit in the living room, warming our bony fingers with hot mugs, sipping quietly as we absorb the silence of the Manse at 6 am.

Then I remember the burning question I encountered the night before. “Tom hasn’t shown it to you?”

Tilda narrows her eyes, mid-sip. She scans my mind and gives one small shake of her head. “Oh, sweetheart, he certainly hasn’t.”

“I thought you two were pretty intimate. Thought he might’ve...”

Tilda rolls her big beautiful eyes ever so gently. “Yes, well, every time I think I’ll catch a glimpse, he hides it. I sometimes wonder if it will turn me to stone to lays eyes upon it.”

I sigh heavily. Shake my head.“You know, Ken never showed it to me either.”

This paints shock on her face. “Unbelievable, these men.”

“Do you think there’s some pact to keep it under wraps?”

“That would be absurd... but it makes me wonder.”

Just then, there are footsteps in the kitchen behind us. We both stare over our shoulders and spot Sir sleepily make his way to the tea station on the counter and turn on the kettle. He’s wearing naught but another matching Manse robe, hair in a pillow-styled disarray. He turns around and catches us staring and smiles through a yawn. “Good morning, ladies.”

“Kenneth,” Tilda says in a stern greeting, “Why haven’t you shown your own wife the book?”

“The book?” he repeats as he finds a mug in the cabinet and drops a teabag into it. “Oh... _the_ book. The _red_ book. I never showed it to you, Missus?”

I shake my head and shrug.

Ken leans against the counter and frowns. “Well, that was silly of me. I apologize. But I passed it on to Tom. I’m sure he’d be happy to show it to you.”

“Oh we _know_ Tom’s got it, but he hasn’t even shown Tilly yet.”

“I think he’s purposely very secretive about it,” Tilda says. “It’s understandably an extremely prized possession.”

“I’m glad he’s taking good care of it, not that I ever doubted him,” Ken says. “He’s a good lad.”

I turn to Tilda and we both smile, mutually appreciating the darling friendship between our men.

A few minutes later, Ken comes over with his own hot tea and sits next to me on the sofa, wrapping one arm around my shoulders.

I reach up and run my fingers through his mussed hairdo. “I low-key fancy your hair like this.”

“Oh yeah? Should I just fly-tip all my products you think?”

“You use like, one product, Kenny.”

He shrugs and sips his tea. “At my age, I’m just thankful I have hair at all.”

Behind us, the sliding door opens in the kitchen and Tom enters, bundled against the cold in sweatpants and a loose hoodie. He heads straight for the the tea kettle without noticing us.

“Thomas!”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Tilda’s call, then he laughs nervously when he notices us gathered on the sofa. “Oh good morning, everyone! I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Let’s see it now,” Tilda says firmly.

He pulls back his hood, his naturally curly hair even more of a mess than mine every morning. “See _it_?” he inquires, grinning awkwardly.

She nods and swipes a finger through the air. “Come now, whip it out. Madam wants to see it as well.”

Tom clearly has not the same mind reading skills Tilda does. He only momentarily hesitates before he comes out from behind the counter and stands where he knows we can see him. His hands are shoved into his hoodie’s pockets until he exchanges a confirmation glance with Ken, then he takes them out and starts fumbling for his belt buckle.

“NO NOT THAT,” I say, waving one hand frantically, the words coming out before I believe I’m even saying them.

Tom freezes, then blushes, his gaze blinking back and forth among the three of us. “Sorry?”

Tilda rubs her face. “The _book_ , you clotpole. We want to see the red Hamlet. Everyone here has already seen what’s in your trousers.”

“Oh!” he says with an enormous grin of relief. “Oh yes of course, the _book_! Yes, is it—is it OK, Ken, if I—”

“Yes, they may see it. It’s not exactly the Ark of the Covenant.”

Tom smacks his hands together in prayer and bows at us. “Yes, sure, I’ll go find it now then.” He opens the door, pops out for a second, then pops his head back in. “Could someone just... finish making my tea, please?”

“I’ll get it, boyo,” Tilda says over the edge of her mug before she takes a dainty sip.The door shuts and she tilts her head, eyeing Ken. “That’s this generation’s best Hamlet?”

Ken wrinkles his forehead and points toward the door. “Was he really about to flash us his bell-end?”

“Well, yes, he takes direction very well,” Tilda says matter-of-factly. “You trained him.”

“You trained him,” I echo, nodding vehemently.

Ken scratches at his morning stubble, blinking at us. “Now with the myriad backstage experiences I’ve had, I’ve been privy to many states of dress and undress, but I am definitely not in the same camp as you two when it comes to Thomas’ privates.”

“Jealous?” Tilda says as she gets up to go fix Tom’s tea.

I lean against Ken, draping his free arm around me, then I slip one hand into his robe and rub his chest vigorously. “I can always give you a nice rubdown with the Radio Times.”

He chuckles warmly, kisses my forehead. “You might have to. Far too many attractive people you keep around here.”


End file.
